The largest brother who escorted the lawyer to the door gives me a sheepish smile. Though he’s a big, muscled guy with tattoos on his knuckles that look like skulls, there’s a hidden gentleness to his eyes the others don’t share. “Orlando,” he says. “My brother.” He points to the suave looking one that appears as if he’d smile as he rips my panties off with his teeth. The youngest, I presume. “Mario.” I nod again. Then finally he turns to a stern, studious-looking brother. “And Ottavio. We call him Tavi.”
I nod but don’t say anything. I have to leave.
Don’t I?
“And you?” I ask before I can stop myself. My voice is husky as if I haven’t spoken in hours. “What’s your name?”
He frowns. “You don’t know my name?”
“Why would I?”
And why is the whole room staring at us?
A shadow crosses his features, but he doesn’t respond at first. His mouth tightens as his brows draw together. Those blue-gray eyes of his look cloudy and angry, and I wonder if he’s going to snap. Why would I know his name?
“My name is Romeo.”
At another place and time, I might laugh at that, like he was joking.
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
There isn’t a trace of humor in his face, not even a hint of amusement.
“This is outrageous,” his father fumes, and he pushes himself to his feet. He shakes his fist in a fit of rage. I muse to myself how a man his age can still have temper tantrums. Didn’t anyone ever tell him those are for children?
Marialena studies her nails, frowning, one shapely leg draped over the other. Her sister Rosa looks bored, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her linen skirt. Unlike Marialena with her youthful beauty, Rosa looks tired and weary, but she’s no less beautiful.
“Sit, Papa,” Romeo says in a voice I can tell most people obey. Romeo gentles his voice. “Please.” It seems he isn’t the head of this family when it comes to his father. “We can’t control what Nonno did, can we?”
The elderly woman that must be Nonna chuckles softly to herself, and Narciso steps over to her.
“You think he won, don’t you, old woman?” he says in a dangerous whisper. “You think because he’s unnerved me and tried to control this family that he will have the final word, do you?” He continues to lecture her in Italian.
Tosca Rossi is on her feet. “Enough, Narciso,” she says to him. “You can take out your anger toward my father on me, but not my mother.”
Romeo’s voice overshadows them all. “He will take out his anger on no one.”
The old man whips his head around to glare at Romeo, who gives him the same steely look I saw in the alley. Narciso mutters under his breath in Italian, and I have a feeling it isn’t something for polite company. He turns on his heel and storms out of the room, cursing under his breath the entire time, but before he leaves, he turns and looks straight at me. “You’ll fucking marry one of them or you’ll deal with me. I’d rather kiss her father’s cold, dead balls then give the money to that charity, and he fucking knew it.” He stabs his fingers into the air to emphasize each word, then utters words in Italian that make his mother-in-law flinch. “You’ll marry, and you’ll marry into this family.”
Was that supposed to convince me?
The door slams behind him. Seconds later, glass crashes and something heavy clatters to the floor. No one but Romeo moves. He slowly draws in a breath before shooting me another hostile glare.
I blink, not sure of how to respond. Was that a threat?
Alright, these people are crazy. My gaze turns back to the rest of them. Marialena looks amused. Rosa bored. But the brothers… they’re all eying me with various degrees of interest except Romeo, who still stares with fury.
No. No.
“I won’t,” I say softly. “It’s against the law to coerce someone into marriage.”
Tosca laughs quietly to herself and stands. “How very innocent of you, cara,” she says in a tone touched with sadness. “Perhaps you haven’t manipulated your way here.” She forces out a mirthless laugh. “How refreshing.” She gestures to her daughters. “Come, girls. We have business to tend to, just as your brothers do I’m sure. Romeo will determine where she will stay.”
“And what if I don’t stay?” I say, feeling angry she’d even assume. Why do they act as if this is a done deal?
Tosca turns to me and gives a weary sigh. “Vittoria, is it?” she says.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Vittoria, you will find one thing that we’ve all found much earlier than you.” She smiles sadly. “In our world, choice is only an illusion. You have no choice in this. My husband will kill, literally kill, before he sees a penny of my father’s money go to that charity, and my father knew this. It’s why my husband’s so angry, though admittedly it doesn’t take much to do that.”